


The Trick is Not Minding

by TwoWeevils



Category: NCIS
Genre: Beer, But they're really hot, Case Fic, Episode: s02e18 Bikini Wax, First Time, M/M, Phone Calls & Telephones, Phone Sex, Pining Tony DiNozzo, So does Gibbs, Submarines, Tony Has Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-07-11
Updated: 2005-07-11
Packaged: 2017-12-10 11:49:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/785734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwoWeevils/pseuds/TwoWeevils
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At the end of the season 2 episode, Bikini Wax, we see Tony chasing after his youth on a spring break with his frat buddies.  This is what happened next.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Trick is Not Minding

Tony DiNozzo leaned back against the motel room door and closed his eyes. The beer he'd bonged roiled a little in his stomach, but last night's leftover pizza still sounded good. Not really drunk. Just a little buzzed. As he opened the box to retrieve a desiccated slice, Tony chuckled a little, thinking about the scan of Kate's wet t-shirt picture he had tucked safely in his PDA.

He flopped on the bed, kicked off his sandals, and chewed pizza while he rummaged for the remote. Flipping past the in-house porn and video game channels, he landed on CNN. It was the tail end of a story about spring break debauchery right here in Panama Beach. He glanced at the clock on the bottom of the screen - 10:28. What was he doing back in his room, alone, at 10:28?

It wasn't old age. DiNozzo could still shoot a beer bong in under six seconds. He could run all day if he had to. He could, if he wanted to, go back to the bar and match his frat brothers slug for slug. He'd been looking forward to really letting loose on this vacation. That cute blonde in the gauzy dress had seemed amenable to a hook up, if he wanted to. And there, as they say, was the rub. He didn't _want_ to.

For Tony, flirting was like digestion--part of his autonomic nervous system. Unconscious, even involuntary. Flirting, at some level, was his primary means of social interaction with everyone. So of course he'd flirted with the blonde. He'd smiled when she brushed past him, deliberately lingering long enough to make sure he knew what she wasn't wearing under that thin cotton dress. That flirting instinct took note and he knew he could have her, against the wall, quick and hard in a dark corner of the parking lot.

But he didn't want to.

Just the same, the thought of the blonde's legs wrapped around his hips triggered another autonomic response, which the baggy beach shorts accommodated. Tony put the pizza down and stroked himself absently while he flipped through the channels on the motel TV. There was nothing on. Of course there was nothing on. Saturday night in Panama Beach was not exactly prime time. The old folks were already asleep, so there wasn't even any Matlock to keep him company.

He waited through a cell phone commercial, then tossed the remote on the nightstand when Clint Eastwood filled the screen. _Heartbreak Ridge_. Eastwood was Tom Highway, a marine gunnery sergeant close to retirement. He had to whip some jarheads into shape, keep the brass off his ass, and try to win back his ex-wife.

Eastwood tore a strip off Mario Van Peebles and smacked him on the back of the head. _Remind you of anyone, DiNozzo?_

Tony sighed and slowed his hand to a gentle caress. There was no use thinking about it, so he might as well stop.

The thing was, there was nothing else to think about. He had a decision to make -- between bad and worse. Bad was what he was doing right now, running headlong after distraction. Bad was losing sleep and not being able to concentrate. Bad was breaking your heart to impress a man who would never, not ever. Never mind the looks and the half-hidden smiles, and the teasing that any sane person would recognize as a prelude to seduction.

Tony had tried to convince himself it was all in his head. And maybe it _was_ all in his head. He expected people to find him attractive. It was reasonable to transfer that expectation to the most important person in his life. _Most important person?_ Jesus! He was gone. Lost. No coming back.

But then, he did spend most of his time with Gibbs in situations that were often emotionally stressful. The psych minor that lived in his head told Tony it was only natural to feel this way. Perfectly normal. Except...why don't you have the hots for Kate or McGee? And how were they able to resist Gibbs's not inconsiderable charms?

Something had to happen. That was all. He had to quit. He'd had a good run. Never stayed anywhere this long. Never had any reason to stay. That's what he'd do. Quit, spend some time chasing tail and then land somewhere else. Maybe the west coast.

Tony went over his options. The lease on his apartment was up next month. He could put his stuff in storage somewhere. Get in the Mustang and just be gone. It wouldn't take long to pack...

But he couldn't go anywhere. Not right away. He was due in court a week Tuesday and he had a bunch of open cases, both warm and cold. Abby had made him promise to go with her and McGee to see _Revenge of the Sith_ when it came out. Would that make him a geek or a nerd? Not important. The point was that he wasn't going anywhere any time soon, so there had to be a way to get himself under control. Just until things settled down and he could leave.

He tried a simple aversion technique. Picture Gibbs with a streaming cold, snot and phlegm everywhere, expecting Tony to fetch him fresh orange juice.

Okay, that didn't work, because god, would he love to do that! Take care of Gibbs when he was sick? That would be...but Gibbs never got sick. And if he did, he'd shoot DiNozzo in the leg before letting him fetch orange juice. He was such a bastard. And Tony loved it. He loved the righteous anger. He loved the single-minded determination to find answers.

And inside the bastard lived this amazing guy who was honorable and loyal. And so fucking hot. And he knew it, the cocky son of a bitch.

Tony ground his teeth in frustration and squeezed his cock hard. This? Wasn't helping.

Watch the movie. Distraction. That was a good thing. Except for all the hard sweaty bodies and comments about swapping spit in the shower. Who wrote this stuff?

Distraction. He had to do something, go somewhere. He couldn't go back to that office. Not ever. This was affecting his work, and Gibbs had to be noticing it. Like the other day when Tony left his PDA in the car and then fumbled with it while they were doing their interview. Sure, that yoga class was an eyeful -- _I'm not blind_ \-- but they were more a relief than a distraction. He'd been thinking about Gibbs next to him in the sedan, thinking about reaching over to trace the outline of his cock inside those ridiculous Dockers while keeping up a steady stream of bullshit chatter.

It was too much. Every time he was alone in the elevator with Gibbs he wanted to throw him against the wall and kiss his throat. He wanted to grab onto the fence in the evidence locker and try to keep quiet while Gibbs sucked him senseless. He wanted Gibbs to fuck him. On the floor or up against that damn boat if that was how he wanted it. _Out of control._

Tony writhed a little and slid his hand up and down with steady determination. He couldn't go back there. But he couldn't just up and quit.

_How hard would it be to get fired?_

***

Gibbs blew wood shavings from the hole he'd just augered. He put the hand drill down, picked up the thick white mug and sipped at his bourbon. A job like this was all about artistry. Plans and diagrams--like the ones strewn across the workbench--were all well and good, but you needed to have a feel for the wood, to know how it would engage the water.

He put a hand on one of the timbers and closed his eyes for a minute. He could see it. Feel it. Hear the wind in the canvas. Smell the clean ocean air. Taste the salt on the spray. Gibbs ran his tongue over his lower lip and opened his eyes to the wooden skeleton that filled the room. Most of the time, it wasn't about the boat, it was about the building of it: The solitary, sensual pleasure of working with his hands to contour the wood. _Can you feel the wood?_ A prick of memory like a sliver in his thumb. Taste of cigarettes. _Been doing a lot of solitary pleasure with the hands lately, huh, Gibbs?_ He buried the thought and picked up some sandpaper to smooth the edges of the hole.

The cell phone on his belt bleated. As Gibbs flipped it open, he noted the time, on his watch and in the corner of the TV screen: 22:47. That was habit. No matter how many computer logs and satellites might be monitoring his cell phone activity, Gibbs liked to check and double-check. You couldn't let technology make you careless.

"This is Gibbs."

"Hi!" The voice was unabashedly cheery.

Gibbs pulled the phone away from his ear and looked at the call display. The area code was 850--Panama City, spring break capital of the world. Great. DiNozzo, calling to gloat about how many coeds he's bagged in two days. Just what I need. He listened for noises in the background, but heard nothing.

"You're supposed to be on vacation, DiNozzo!"

"Uh, how are you? Are you busy?"

"No, I'm just -- what the hell do you want?" Gibbs cradled the phone with his shoulder and began to sand lightly around the freshly-drilled hole, while he waited for DiNozzo to get to the point. He tried to ignore the way just hearing Tony's voice on the phone made his cock feel...heavy and his breath come a little fast. That was just between him and his right hand.

"Just checking in, sir. Everything, uh, going okay?"

"'Sir?' Are you drunk?" He put the sandpaper down.

"Bus-ted! You're good! You should be a detective...oh wait..." Gibbs listened as Tony tried to swallow his laughter. This was not the way he intended to spend the rest of his evening.

"DiNozzo, I am hanging up the phone right now. You better get on your knees and start praying that I forget this call by the time you report back to work." _On his knees? Okay, this is stopping now._

"No! Wait! Don't hang up, Boss!"

Gibbs had the phone halfway closed before he decided to relent. "Why not?" All right, he was curious. And DiNozzo sounded like the cat who swallowed the canary.

"You will not believe what I found."

"Try me."

Tony erupted in laughter. Kind of infectious, even if you didn't get the joke. "Kate's picture! Wet t-shirt! Wall of Fame!"

Gibbs held the phone away from his ear and stared at it, the bare beginnings of a smile playing across his face. DiNozzo wasn't just drunk, he was crazy. And dead, if there really was a picture of Kate Todd in some bar.

"Tony"--Gibbs used the voice he called "reasonable," the one that told Ducky to stop reminiscing, warned Abby to cut the technobabble, and had put fear in the hearts of countless Marine recruits left to his tender mercies--"I want you to hang up the phone, go back in the bar, and I'll see you next Monday." _All fucked out and happy._

"No, wait! I...I don't want to go back to the bar."

"Then go sleep it off! We're done here."

"Why? Are you...busy or something?"

"No, I'm just --" Gibbs cursed himself for not having hung up already.

"Come on, boss, talk to me." Gibbs could hear the smile in Tony's voice. "I'm bored."

"You're at a beach crawling with bikinis, three sheets to the wind, and you're bored?"

There was a pause. "Yeah, I'm...bored. It's not..." Tony sounded like he'd just had a revelation. "I'm just not having fun."

"And you called me at home on a Saturday night to tell me this. Guess your frat boy days are over, DiNozzo." Gibbs took a swallow of bourbon and sat down. What the hell had gotten into Tony? He sounded...intense. This was more than just some elaborate joke at Kate's expense.

"Huh. Guess so. But..."

"But?"

"Forget it." Tony sighed. "Nothing." His voice was slower now and dreamy, almost sad, "Sorry for bothering you, Gibbs."

"Well, maybe you should just go to sleep now. It'll be better tomorrow."

"I'm not sleepy. Are you sleepy, boss?"

"It's not even 23:00, Tony. No. I am not sleepy." An indrawn breath and then silence on the other end of the line. "Tony?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you okay?" He propped his feet on a milk crate and took a long pull on his drink. The bourbon was doing its job. Gibbs was starting to feel soft and kind of mellow. And he didn't really want DiNozzo to hang up, did he? Didn't want him to go off feeling like no one cared...feeling like _Gibbs_ didn't care what happened to him. He would just sit here and listen for a little while, let Tony get whatever it was off his chest. That would make him happy--it would make them both happy--and then they could hang up and go to bed.

"I'm just a little...say, what are you doing tonight? Wait, I know, working on your boat, right?"

"You should be a detective," Gibbs answered absently.

"So, how's it going? The boat, I mean. Tell me about it."

"Her, DiNozzo. You call a boat her."

"Okay. No problema. Her," his voice dropped a little lower, "tell me about her."

Gibbs's treacherous cock stirred to life, and his own voice softened a fraction in response. What the hell. _Go with it. He's 900 miles away._ "You wanna know? I'll tell you." He gazed at the boat frame. "She's a 25-foot pocket cruiser, with a sail rig I can set up and lower without A-frames and guywires, a raised deck for good stability, and a strip planked bilge radius so she'll be fast and less likely to slap the bottom forward in a chop." Gibbs heard a small rustling sound.

"Slap the bottom forward in a chop?" More rustling. "That sounds painful. What else?"

Gibbs launched into details, including hull dimensions, fresh water capacity, and the exact type of trailer he'd need to haul her. He abandoned the old kitchen chair in his basement for the living room couch, "...so she's designed as an offshore cruiser, but she's still easy enough to handle by myself."

"Would you do that?" Tony said, curious. The rustling had stopped for the moment, Gibbs noticed.

"Do what? Cruise offshore by myself?" Gibbs was stretched out on the couch now, legs splayed wide, the bourbon bottle and mug within easy reach. "Just because a boat sleeps four doesn't mean they're all going to be comfortable, DiNozzo. Besides, it's not like I've got a gang of people waiting to sail with me."

"I bet Fornell would." DiNozzo snickered.

"Fornell gets seasick riding the Metro," Gibbs said after a moment, chuckling. _My last three dates didn't last this long._ But he felt good. Better than good. Relaxed. And not just from the bourbon. If his hand was sliding slowly over his chest, under his t-shirt, stroking over one nipple, then the other...well, that was all right. It felt good, and no one had to know.

"So what else?" DiNozzo hadn't even noticed the momentary pause. "Does this boat have a galley? Or is it going to be more of a fishing trip kind of boat, with a bait cooler and a fish finder but nowhere to cook?"

"She's designed to have a four-foot galley. Probably won't get much use out of it, though."

"You should invite some people out for a weekend cruise." Tony sounded even more relaxed than Gibbs felt by now. And the rustling had started again. "Used to do that all the time, summers...get invited out on someone's boat and just fuck around all weekend."

 _Literally?_ He guessed he'd better not say that out loud, even though his dick was beginning to think it was a really good idea. What came out instead was, "So you can handle a sailboat?"

"It's been a while, but yeah, I think I still could. Why?" DiNozzo added, his voice dropping low again. "You gonna take _me_ out for a cruise?"

Goddamn. DiNozzo could make anything sound dirty with that inflection in his voice. "This boat isn't going anywhere for a long time," Gibbs said, a little of his earlier sternness returning.

"Hey, don't jump down my throat, Boss. You're the one who's building a 25-foot sailboat in a basement with a three-foot-wide door."

"Don't know if you've noticed, DiNozzo, but I generally find a way to get things done."

"Oh yeah, I've noticed. Things you want done...they get done." And damn, there was that voice again, and Gibbs couldn't wait. He unzipped his jeans and ran his hand lightly over his cock, closing his eyes and letting Tony's murmured words wash over him. _This doesn't matter. This isn't real._

"Did I ever tell you how glad I was when you poached me away from Baltimore?" DiNozzo went on.

"No"--his hand gripped a little tighter, and he almost succeeded in stifling a gasp--"how come? Something happen up there you didn't tell me about?"

An indrawn breath to match his own, before DiNozzo spoke again. "Let's just say this is the first time in a while I've felt like going sailing."

"That have anything to do with the company, or are you falling in love with my boat?" Silence on the other end of the line, for a very long moment.

"Not with your boat, Gibbs."

Silence again. Gibbs could see Tony's face -- he could picture the way Tony must be wincing, like he did when he overstepped at work.

Gibbs's cock rose insistently against his hand. "Not with my boat?" he said roughly, and heard DiNozzo's breath begin to come faster. "You were planning to tell me this when, Tony?"

"When I resigned. Maybe." A small voice, for DiNozzo, but with a harsh catch that made him sound like he'd been running. "Or when you fired me."

"I'm not going to fire you. And you sure as hell aren't going to quit." Gibbs's hands moved with purpose. "Tell me what you're doing right now."

"Oh god, Boss, if you don't know what I'm doing right now..."

"Don't call me Boss," Gibbs ground out. "Just tell me."

There was another long silence before DiNozzo answered. "Wishing you were here. Wishing I was there. Wishing it was your hand on me instead of mine. Or your mouth. Anything. I just want you to touch me." He paused for a moment, and let out his breath. "I need to touch you. I want to feel you when you come. Get on my knees for you. Anything."

"DiNozzo..." Gibbs trailed off. He hadn't expected all that, not really, but it made sense. When Tony threw himself into something, he went all the way. This had been a long time coming. His hand sped up as he imagined Tony lying sprawled on a motel bed, one hand inside his boxers, the other fondling his nipples or his lips or his ass, stroking and touching and playing with himself, giving it up for Gibbs.

"That's right, Tony. Do that for me. You're gonna feel so good when I touch you..." and the breathing in his ear sounded labored and hot and god, it was like he was right there and Gibbs was coming, long and hard and fast, like he hadn't in years, and Tony was right behind him, just like always, _he's got my six even here_ and then it stopped and Gibbs could think again, barely.

"You have your laptop, DiNozzo?"

"Huh?" Gibbs would bet Tony looked pretty good right now, eyes half shut and hand lightly clasping his dick, dropping into a post-coital doze. But he needed him awake and focused, at least for a few more hours.

"Get your laptop, Tony. Hook it up to the internet or whatever. Book yourself on the first flight to BWI in the morning. I'll meet you at the airport."

"Laptop. BWI. First flight. Got it, Boss. But why?"

"Because you're coming home."

~~~~~

DiNozzo threw his stuff in a bag and was halfway out the door before the small part of his brain that was still rational realized there was no such thing as a redeye from Panama City Beach to DC. Not really one of your more popular commuter routes. He smiled, thinking of a planeload of stiff-suited lobbyists and congressional aides making a weekly trek to Harpoon Harry's for a beach pail filled with Long Island Ice Tea.

Now, buckling himself in for the pre-dawn flight that would take him to BWI via Atlanta, he rubbed a hand over his jaw. He'd showered and shaved hours ago, unable to even think about sleeping, but he'd be stubbly again by the time he landed in Baltimore. Maybe he could clean up in the airport before he went to find Gibbs.

_Gibbs._

A cocky grin stole over Tony's face. He'd set out to get himself fired when he grabbed the phone in one hand and his dick in the other and called Gibbs last night. It was a last-ditch assault--he'd never wanted anything for so long with so little hope of getting it. But Tony couldn't make himself quit. He wanted to force Gibbs to push him away. He wanted to see if Gibbs _would_ push him away. Because, at some level, Tony knew that the heat wasn't just one-sided. And last night, Gibbs fucking went for it.

_Damn, I'm good._

He tried to relax, closing his eyes to chase the sleep he'd missed, but he was too amped with anticipation. If he didn't know himself better, he'd say he was nervous. It had been a long haul from the time he'd first locked eyes with Gibbs and thought _I wouldn't mind a slice of that_. Of course, that was just Tony's standard operating procedure with pretty much anything that moved. But once he was under Gibbs's jurisdiction, he was more interested in survival than seduction.

To make it through Gibbs's personal boot camp was a badge of honour among NCIS field agents. Many failed.

The failures often made good sycophants in the Director's office or moved over to one of the three-letter agencies that Gibbs cheerfully despised. But Tony loved a challenge and wasn't afraid of hard work. He remembered the day, nine months in, when Gibbs first indicated that he thought DiNozzo wasn't entirely incompetent.

Tony had been awake for nearly two full days, tailing a NAVAIR commander suspected of murder. The civilian intern who found out the guy had been selling intel to one of the beltway bandits turned up dead in a Pax River dumpster. It had gotten a little hairy at the end--his backup hadn't shown and DiNozzo took out after the guy alone, trying to catch him before he ditched the knife and bloodied clothes in the Patuxent.

Back at the Yard, Tony handed the dirtbag off to be processed, and hit the men's room to examine the damage to his nose and his favorite North Face turtleneck. Gibbs was in there. Without looking at Tony, he said, "That's a good job, DiNozzo," zipped up, and left.

Definitely worth the price of a new turtleneck.

The flight attendant reached across DiNozzo to lower the window shade. She was curvy in all the right places and favoured Tony with an inviting smile. To his great amusement and mild astonishment, he realized that he hadn't flirted with her. Not even a little bit. Not even when she'd offered him a pillow.

He hadn't been able to really put his heart into any serious grab-ass for a long while. He was slipping. Even Paula Cassidy noted his lack of enthusiasm when she emailed him about hooking up after her current deployment. Panama City Beach was supposed to get Gibbs out of his head. Get him back in the game. Instead it just made it all too clear that the game was over. He wanted Gibbs and nobody but Gibbs.

It was all Kate's fault. When she first joined NCIS, Tony had been all about defending his position on the team. Ducky had been right--he and Kate fought like brother and sister over Gibbs's attention. And Tony had enough insight to admit that he looked to Gibbs for some kind of paternal approval. But somewhere in there--he didn't want to think too hard about how--it had degenerated into a quest to bag the son of a bitch.

Whatever. He'd rolled out his well-oiled arsenal of charm and innuendo, cranked up the flirting, and damned if Gibbs didn't seem to be taking the bait. Or at least playing the game. And then the bastard moved the goalposts.

It actually caught Tony by surprise the first time he got hard when Gibbs stood too close to him. Then he started getting tingles when he caught one of those smiles that Gibbs tried to hide. His heart, or his stomach, or whatever was in the middle there, flopped when Gibbs looked at him that way.

If that wasn't enough of a clue, there was the sheer and unyielding terror when he saw Gibbs on the floor in autopsy with a bullet in his shoulder. Even when the medic arrived and Tony wasn't needed to keep pressure on the wound, he kept Gibbs in a near-bruising grip. He wanted nothing more than to wrap his long body around Gibbs like human Kevlar.

He'd seen the movies and read the books. He knew what this was. Somehow, the desire to please his boss and the desire to fuck his boss had merged into being ridiculously _in love_ with his boss. Because that's what this was: love. The evidence was clear. What else could make you act like such a complete ass?

Tony shifted in his seat and checked his watch. Soon. His face got hot thinking about how Gibbs had been last night. How his voice changed as he responded to Tony's raw need.

Home, Gibbs had said, you're coming home.

~~~~~  
  
Gibbs cursed himself for keeping his place so spotless.

If there'd been dishes in the sink or a hamper full of laundry or a layer of dust over everything, he'd have something to do. He needed an occupation to keep from going completely nuts. He'd dozed off after...what had happened earlier with DiNozzo, but now at zero-dark-hundred, he was suddenly completely wide awake. He wanted Tony here.

After confirming (for the third time) that Tony's flight would land at 11:06, Gibbs tried to collect himself, heading downstairs for some boatbuilding therapy. The rich smell of the wood hit him like a slap and the memory of that phone call came flooding back. Almost before he could draw breath, he was straining against his jeans. Again. He considered taking care of it himself, but decided the wait would be worth it.

Gibbs threw a splash of bourbon in the mug. He grabbed a rag and started to wipe down and put away his tools, trying to lose himself in the routine. This whole thing was his own damn fault, of course. He'd known exactly what was going on. Hell, he'd practically dared Tony - deliberately provoking him, challenging him to cross the line. Prudence wasn't something they taught Marines. And it sure didn't come naturally to Gibbs.

But Gibbs couldn't make an obvious move. He was the boss. Relationships between agents never work out.

But goddamn, was it fun. He would come up behind DiNozzo, silent and deadly, and watch him respond to his voice, low and purring, in his ear. He'd perch casually on Tony's desk, legs wide, his thigh brushing Tony's arm as he avoided the questions in Tony's eyes.

He screwed the lid on a jar of galvanized washers. What the hell was he supposed to do? When your days and nights are littered with bodies and pain and stupid waste, you need a little something to break the tension. He'd always liked keeping his people off balance. And DiNozzo made it so easy.

It was inevitable that something would happen, sooner or later. He had tried to tell himself that when it did, it wouldn't mean anything. It would be all about relieving the tension. They'd come pretty close a few times, but it always seemed like the wrong time--like last fall after the Jeffrey White thing. But now it was happening. Going to happen. Had already started. And Gibbs wasn't sure he knew what he wanted. He checked his watch again. Definitely need to kill some time.

Push-ups and crunches. They'd never been known to fail when you wanted to take your mind off something. Or focus your mind on something. Somehow the effort of straining your muscles, keeping good form, and pushing for that extra twenty--or fifty--allowed your head to look at a problem from a new angle. He switched off the basement light and headed upstairs.

As he settled on the carpet and started his workout, Gibbs thought about how he and DiNozzo had sparred with each other all this time. He knew he could drop Tony to the canvas in a heartbeat. Yet he held back--letting Tony land the odd blow, but dancing just out of reach. Gibbs had played this game before, but never so close to home.

 _And there was the real problem._ Gibbs paused mid-crunch. He had to admit it. Tony had gotten too close to home. Gibbs _let_ him get too close. Too close to be just a warm body on a cold night. This was _DiNozzo_ , and Gibbs was in. He was all in. Would Tony be up for that? Gibbs smiled to himself and started to work on his obliques. He'd find out soon enough. _He already knows I'm the marrying kind_.

Gibbs's breath came faster as he lost count of his crunches. Even if those marriages hadn't worked out the way he hoped they would, Gibbs always hoped. He wanted a life outside of work. He wanted a reason to come home again. He never thought that reason might come in a DiNozzo-shaped package, but you just never knew what life was going to throw at you.

He checked the clock. 05:20. Time seemed to be moving very slowly. He was sweaty and tired, but his head was clearer now. He wanted this. And not even Tony would have put so much on the line last night if he wasn't feeling pretty damn serious. He wouldn't have gone on with it for so long if it was just a matter of chalking Gibbs off some list. His gut told him that much...or maybe the feeling was coming from somewhere nearer the waterline.

He lay back, resting his head on his hands. They'd have to be careful. The NCIS chain of command tended to turn a blind eye to 'fraternization' unless someone filed a formal complaint. He'd broken that rule before but it looked like he was going to throw the rule book out the window this time. Gibbs pushed the thought away. It would work out. They'd make it work out. He closed his eyes, relaxing into sleep as he thought about Tony. In his house. In his bed. Tonight. _Every night._

~~~~~

  
Gibbs swung by his usual neighbourhood place for coffee before heading to the interstate. He balanced the cup on the roof of his car when his cell phone bleated. _He's not coming. He missed the plane. He came to his senses._

"Yeah. Gibbs."

"Ah, Jethro. Sorry to disturb your day of rest."

"What do you need, Duck?" Gibbs took a sip of coffee through the hole in the lid.

"We've got a rather odd problem here."

"What kind of problem?"

"Abby's here with me, and..." Mallard hesitated. Gibbs heard a murmured conversation in the background. "We really think it would be best if you came down to see for yourself. It's not something I feel I can discuss on the telephone."

"Got it. I'll be there."

Damn. The problem with having a reputation for being a workaholic was that people expected you to be just waiting for the chance to do more work. The plane would be on final approach by now. No way to reach Tony. Rubbing his neck as he swung the car back toward DC, Gibbs reflected that sleeping on the living room carpet was only marginally more comfortable than sleeping on the keel of his boat.

~~~~~

  
 _DiNozzo, it's me. Something came up. I'll give you a call when I can._

Tony stared at the cellphone. He'd known as soon as he heard Gibbs's voice. _Something came up?_ Hoisting his bag more firmly across his shoulder, he headed toward the cab stand. He hesitated for a moment before telling the driver where to take him. Gibbs's door would be unlocked...Tony bit his lip thinking about what kind of surprise he could have waiting for Gibbs when he got home. Whatever had held him up probably wouldn't take that long to resolve.

He gave the driver the Takoma Park address and settled in for a quick Sunday morning trip down I-95. Tony figured he'd get cleaned up and see what might be edible in Gibbs's kitchen. From his previous visits, he knew Gibbs wasn't much of a cook--if he couldn't barbecue it or microwave it, Gibbs didn't eat it. Maybe he'd throw something together...something that wouldn't suffer from sitting and waiting while they finished what they'd started last night.

Tony closed his eyes and pictured what was coming. Maybe Gibbs would slam him against the door and give him a quick hand job to take the edge off. Or maybe it would be slow and sexy, no urgency, all the time in the world to explore. He shivered in anticipation of finally getting to know what Gibbs liked and how to give it to him. _Has he even done this before?_

He remembered a website he came across, back when he was trying to absorb everything he could about the Navy and Marine Corps to impress his new boss. There'd been that cadence the 'Hollywood' Marines in San Diego used: 'Don't ask (how large) don't tell (your sarge).' Gotta love the internet. He'd read some pretty wild stories of what went on in Marine barracks--he bookmarked a few--but Gibbs?

An image of Gibbs as a Marine rose suddenly and fully formed in Tony's mind. Back ramrod straight, hair high and tight, everything polished and completely buttoned down. He sat up and opened his eyes. _Shit._ He tried to fight back the sick feeling that welled up from his stomach.

What if there was no emergency? What if Gibbs had changed his mind and needed to buy some time to figure out what to tell him? Tony realized he knew that story; morning after a party, vague recollection of having made someone promises he had no intention of keeping. Practice avoidance. Duck the calls and be oh, so casual the next time their paths crossed. _It's not you...it's me._

They were just north of Jessup. Still time to file a new flight plan. Without giving himself time to second-guess the decision, he told the driver to get back on the Beltway.

How many times had Gibbs warned him about thinking with the little head instead of the big one? There was no way Gibbs was going to risk both of their jobs for what would probably turn out to be no more than the odd fuck after a lousy day.

But Gibbs had said 'home'.

He sighed and stretched the kinks out of his neck as he paid the driver and climbed the steps to his apartment. He wasn't making sense. He couldn't think. _Tired. Hungry._ He'd go upstairs and wait. It wasn't like he had much of a choice.

 ~~~~~

  
"What is that?" Gibbs stood behind Abby and McGee, looking at what appeared to be an orange labyrinth on the plasma screem in her lab.

Abby half-turned and took the vat of CafPow from Gibbs's hand. "What's it look like, Gibbs?"

"It looks like I'm going to be filing your termination papers unless you cut the crap and tell me what I'm doing here." Gibbs was in no mood for games.

"It's an RFI chip, Boss." McGee broke in before Abby could tease the answer out any longer. He'd never seen Gibbs quite like this. He looked almost...disheveled. In unthinking response to Gibbs's disarray, McGee tightened the perfect Windsor knot of his tie. "Radio Frequency Identification. The chip has a small antenna which enables it to receive and respond to radio-frequency queries from an RFID transceiver."

Gibbs gave McGee the usual blank stare. Abby chimed in, "It's like an EZ Pass, Gibbs. You know, the transponder you put in your car to pay tolls? Only way smaller."

"And we're looking at it because..."

"Ah, there you are, Jethro." Dr. Mallard entered the lab with Jimmy Palmer close on his heels. "We're looking at this chip because I found it implanted subcutaneously in Seaman Beaumont's left upper arm."

~~~~~

  
Tony went around the apartment opening windows. He'd only been gone for two nights, but the place smelled kind of stale. A chilly spring rain blew in, leaving droplets on the windowsills. He checked his answering machine. Nothing from Gibbs. Just Kochifis wondering if this was the week he was going away, and, if not, did he want to shoot hoops Monday night.

"Where are you, Boss?" he asked the empty room.

As he stuffed laundry into a duffle bag, Tony considered calling. But Gibbs had said that _he_ would call. _When did I turn into such a girl?_ What could have come up? Work. But then why hadn't he given Tony more details? Gibbs knew he was home. There was no reason he couldn't come in to work if there was some emergency.

_Unless Gibbs doesn't want me there._

Flushing with humiliation and rising anger, Tony slammed into the kitchen and stared at the contents of his fridge. Not much there. But then, he'd planned to be away all week, eating seafood and the occasional co-ed.

He pulled the Cap'n Crunch box down from the pantry shelf and headed for the living room. He'd go out and stock up later. For now, he just wanted to zone out with a James Bond movie and try to figure out what to do next. So what if Gibbs wasn't willing to take a chance with him? He'd handled worse. As Q explained the operation of the Aston Martin DB5's passenger ejector seat, Tony settled in and thought strategy.

A joke. That's how he'd play it. Take the rest of the week off as planned. Avoid the phone. Drink, dance, get royally and thoroughly fucked right here in DC. Then stumble into work next Monday with enough tales of his exploits to make McGee sweat and Kate start thumbing through the agency policy on sexual harassment. Gibbs would be his usual miserable self. If he did make any reference to the phone call, Tony would use the "God, was I drunk!" excuse and claim to remember almost nothing.

And he'd start looking for a new job right away. His instincts had been right when he tried to get himself fired; it was time to leave. It was probably better this way. He sucked at relationships, and Gibbs didn't have much of a track record either. Never mind that Tony had never felt so connected with someone, never learned to anticipate the way he did with Gibbs, never wanted to excel so badly. Never mind.

It was over. No more pent-up frustration. No more longing looks across the office. No more games. Tony unclipped his cell phone and turned it off. _No more Gibbs._

~~~~

"Well, he wasn't using this thing to pay tolls." Gibbs stepped closer to the screen, tilting his head to try to read the markings etched into the plastic. "What's it for?"

"That's the problem, Gibbs. I don't have the right equipment to read the data."

"Well, get it! This guy was a sonarman on the _Jimmy Carter_. We need to know what's on that thing. Now."

"I thought you'd say that." With a self-satisfied smirk, Abby turned back to her keyboard.

"McGee..."

"Yeah, Boss!"

"Call Kate. Both of you get over to Little Creek. Check out Beaumont's rack, talk to the COB, and see what you can find out."

"On it, Boss." McGee hurried off, dialing his cell phone. He figured he'd find out what a "cob" was on the way to Virginia.

Palmer stepped closer to Ducky. "Dr. Mallard? Does this mean you need me to stay? Because I'll have to call my moth--"

"Yes, Jimmy," Mallard snapped. "We need to have a closer look at Seaman Beaumont." He exchanged a look with Gibbs. "I'm starting to think perhaps he didn't slip on spilled tea after all."

It took awhile to track down Beaumont's CO and set up an MTAC conference. Gibbs sipped yet another cup of coffee while he waited for the tech to give him the thumbs up. Would have been faster for me to drive down myself.

"What can I do for you, Special Agent Gibbs?" Captain Ed Killick's body language told Gibbs that he wasn't happy about being pulled off the golf course.

"About Seaman Beaumont..."

"I've already told your people everything I know." Killick shifted impatiently.

"Yeah, I got the preliminary report from the Norfolk office." Gibbs drew himself up a little, even though physical intimidation didn't work that well in a video conference. "I'd like to hear your take, if you don't mind."

"We docked at Little Creek on Wednesday at 08:37. Most of the crew were given leave. The COB found Beaumont early Friday morning in crew quarters. The medic said he slipped and fell--broke his neck on the knee knocker." Killick paused for a moment. "Stupid way to die. We notified NCIS at Norfolk, per regs, and reported an unattended death."

"What do you know about Beaumont's personal life?"

"Not a lot. No family to speak of. He was kicked out of CalSci in '04 for pulling some kind of prank. Enlisted right away. Did well in Sub school"--the captain consulted a folder on his desk--"very well. Reported to me about three months before our first cruise. My XO says he was a good sonarman." Killick eyed the image of Gibbs on his computer screen. "What's going on, Gibbs? We're scheduled to sail in four days." He hesitated briefly. "It's a mission."

"I'll get back to you on that, Captain. Special Agents Todd and McGee should be there within the hour and I expect..."

"Is that really---"

"I expect your officers and crew to cooperate fully." Gibbs signalled the tech to sever the connection and took the stairs down to see if Ducky had any news for him. He tried Tony's cell on the way but only learned that he'd reached NCIS Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo who would get back to him "a-sap." Gibbs grinned at the military-speak. He hoped to hell Tony had gotten the message and wasn't hanging around the baggage claim at BWI.

~~~~~  
  
He'd abandoned the Cap'n Crunch after a few handfuls--it was making him sick to his stomach. 007, oblivious to Tony's plight, drank mint juleps with Pussy Galore. A long hot shower hadn't helped. Neither had a short cold one.

Tony couldn't stand it anymore. Fuck it. Before he could put this pathetic episode behind him, he had to know.

"Talk to me!" Abby sang into the phone. Tony could hear Android Lust's _Viscera_ blaring in the background.

"Hey, Abbs..."

"Tony! So? Is it great? Did you bring enough sunscreen?" Abby's voice over the speakerphone sounded hollow.

"Is anyone there with you?" _Like Gibbs?_ And how would he explain the call if Gibbs was there?

"Nope, just me and some bleeding edge technology."

"What's going on?"

"Really freaky stuff! Ducky found an RFI chip implanted in this dead submariner!"

Tony paused for half a second. "Was he from the _Jimmy Carter_?"

"How'd you know that?"

"She put into Little Creek on Wednesday. Does Gibbs know about this?"

"Gibbs knows about everything. He's up in MTAC right now. And why do you know that?" She turned her music down slightly, and lowered her voice conspiratorially. "Gibbs and Ducky both went all battle stations when they saw the chip. They're thinking Seaman Beaumont's death wasn't an accident. What's so special about the _Jimmy Carter_?"

"The _Jimmy Carter_ is the Navy's newest attack boat. Commissioned last February. She's loaded down with next gen weapons, sensors, undersea vehicles, tactical surveillance--"

"Total Tom Clancy stuff," Abby interrupted him. "Cool."

"And it's tricked out with the Advanced SEAL Delivery System," Tony continued. "So, since they're at Little Creek--where the SEALs train..."

"They must be gearing up for some serious covert ops."

"Exactly."

"So this chip..." Abby paused in thought, but DiNozzo couldn't wait. He finished the sentence for her.

"...could have been signalling the exact location of the Navy's super-secret spy sub." Tony thought about that for a moment. He remembered reading something from Homeland Security about RFI chips in passports...

"No way, Tony. It's too small. The maximum range on this thing would be seventy feet..."

"But with a high-powered reader that's--I don't know--tuned to the chip's exact frequency? You could get a hit...Or what if it was set up to ping the radio transceivers on old SOSUS nets?" He was about to tell Abby about the chain of underwater listening posts laid down by the Navy in the 60s to track Soviet subs when she broke in. 

"The Navy hardly pays any attention to SOSUS anymore, Tony. Just a few marine biologists and seismologists using it as Muzak." Abby made a slurping noise with her straw. "This could be bad."

"Very bad." Tony chewed his lip and thought for a moment. "They use those chips to track inventory on ordnance as well. It would suck to think you were packing serious heat--"

"--Then find out you had a dozen tubs of Haagen-Dazs instead of a dozen MIRVs." Abby mused. "Not quite as sexy as your SOSUS theory. But still not good."

"How soon will you be able to read the chip?"

"My little Radio Shack model got nothing but static. There's a big multi-spectrum reader on its way from the Pentagon now."

"Good. I'll be there in 20."

"You're home?" Abby asked in surprise.

"Long story."

Tony hung up. What the hell am I doing? He felt a surge of excitement, and it wasn't just from the prospect of a hot case. Gibbs really was working. That was good. That meant...absolutely nothing. He wouldn't know anything until he saw Gibbs. And that required moving, and moving was better than staying still and not knowing.

He chose his good-luck pinstripe and the blue Gabbana tie. Bond would have approved.

~~~~~  
  
"I just don't see it, Jethro." Ducky moved away from the x-ray screen. "It's a C2/C3 fracture all right. Bruising and lividity are all consistent with the position in which the Jimmy Carter's Chief claims he found the body."

Gibbs moved the hovering Palmer away from the table so he could look at Seaman Beaumont's hands. "No defensive wounds."

"Precisely." In a swift movement, Mallard took Palmer by the shoulders, spun him around to face him, and pushed him up against an open autopsy drawer. "Now, if I wanted to break Mister Palmer's neck like that, I'd have to grab him, like this"--Ducky gripped Palmer's forehead in one hand--"kick his feet out from under him---don't squirm so, Mister Palmer, I'm not going to hurt you--and press his shoulder down and back against the metal edge of this drawer--"

"Or a knee-knocker," Gibbs added.

"---to snap the cervical spine. Have I told you that my mother adores popsicles, Jethro? But she will only eat one-half of one at a time. I snap them in half on the edge of the kitchen table, just like...that." Mallard smiled as he released Palmer, who scrabbled back against the drawer to regain his balance. "As you see here, there is no trauma to Beaumont's brachial plexus, whereas Mister Palmer," he gestured to his assistant who was rubbing the soft tissue between his neck and shoulder, "will have a bruise the size of the heel of my hand, right there."

Gibbs hid a grin from the aggrieved Palmer. "So you think it was an accident?"

"I'm almost sure of it, Jethro." He paused and looked up thoughtfully. "You know, they call this a 'hangman's break'. It was the executioner William Marwood who perfected the 'long drop' technique of hanging in 1874. Marwood actually came up with a formula to calculate the required drop, based on the weight and stature of the condemned. Too short a fall, and the poor fellow will simply dangle there and asphyxiate. But if the drop is too long, his head may be pulled off."

Gibbs was already halfway out the door. "Give me a shout when the toxicology comes back, will you, Duck? I'll be at my desk."

Mallard gazed at Gibbs's retreating form for a moment, then beckoned Palmer back to the table. "It was also Marwood who determined--after considerable experimentation--that placing the knot just here, under the left ear, would jerk the head backwards at the end of the drop and instantly sever the spinal cord. Did you know that, Mister Palmer?"

~~~~~  
  
Tony pushed the elevator button and hitched his backpack up on his shoulder. He figured he'd go straight down to Abby's lab and...the elevator door opened.

"DiNozzo?" Gibbs's brow furrowed.

"Gibbs!" _Not looking thrilled to see me._ Tony stood paralyzed until the elevator door started closing. He reached to stop it, but Gibbs was faster. Tony's hand covered his for an instant, then pulled back as if he'd been scorched. He tried to make the move look natural, but settled for just getting on the elevator. The door had barely closed when Tony flipped the emergency stop switch.

"Look, Boss--"

"I thought you---"

They both stopped. Tony's heart pounded so hard he was sure Gibbs could hear it in the enclosed space. Do it. Like ripping off a band-aid. He took a deep breath that ended in a sigh. He didn't want to hear Gibbs say it first.

"It was a mistake. We can just forget it ever happened." Tony looked past Gibbs's shoulder. "It's okay."

A muscle tightened in Gibbs's jaw. "Is that what you want?"

"I just---" Gibbs's cell phone bleated. Once, twice... _Saved by the bell._ "Are you going to answer that?"

"This is Gibbs." He listened for a few seconds. "On my way." He flipped the switch to start the elevator again, then punched the button for the garage level.

"Beaumont?"

"Yeah."

They stared at the numbers in silence until the doors opened.

Abby stood in the middle of the garage, hands on her hips, squaring off against four large men in Marine service uniforms. DiNozzo eyed the breadbox-sized crate that lay open on the floor between them.

"Gibbs! These Pentagon...people"--she clearly had another word for them in mind--"won't let their precious RFID reader out of their sight!"

A young officer with wire-framed glasses nodded to Gibbs. "I'm sorry, sir. But our instructions are to maintain visual contact with this equipment at all times."

"I can't take it up to my lab and have all these people stomping around!" Abby insisted.

"I understand, Lieutenant." Gibbs turned to Abby. "Can't you just fire the thing up down here?"

"Gi-ibbs!" Her voice went high. She knew the battle was lost, but she wasn't going to give up that easily.

"Look," Tony broke in, "it's not like they'd let you take it apart like you want to."

"But I want to find out how..." Abby sighed disconsolately, "Oh, all right. Set it up on the table over there."

"Thanks, Abbs." Gibbs patted her shoulder.

"Okay, but when I'm ready to go they have to stand back." Abby glared at the Marines. "Way back."

While Abby went back to her lab to retrieve the chip, Gibbs and DiNozzo stood silently, watching the Marines unpack the reader and hook it up to the laptop they had brought along.

Tony tried to think of something normal to say. The lack of sleep was catching up with him and he didn't know what he might blurt out. He just wanted to go someplace and lie down--Abby's lab, autopsy, his desk, anywhere. And it was all so stupid. He'd screwed up. Couldn't be happy leaving things the way they were.

Gibbs stole a glance at DiNozzo. What the hell had happened to Tony? Forget it? How was he supposed to forget it? He knew Tony's track record, but this was quick even for him. What could have changed so drastically in the last few hours?

 _He'll be leaving soon._ The thought left Gibbs with a bleak, empty ache as he tried to drag his attention back to the case.

"Okay. I want the Brothers Grim to stay over there. By the van." Abby was back. Tony was grateful to have her to concentrate on. That made things feel less...strange.

Using plastic tweezers, Abby teased the chip out of the evidence baggie, and tweaked the settings on the reader. Then she turned to the laptop and tapped the keys in a pattern that made sense only to her. "Uh-oh."

"What?" Gibbs stepped closer and looked over her shoulder. The Marine lieutenant eased away from the van, gesturing for his men to stay where they were.

"Well, I expected it to be encrypted. But this is pretty heavy, Gibbs."

"Can you break it?" Tony had moved nearer so he could see the screen as well. He was close enough to inhale that clean scent that always seemed to hover around Gibbs.

Gibbs swallowed hard. He could feel Tony's breath on his neck. He braced a hand on the back of Abby's chair and willed himself not to move.

"Of course, I can break it. But I'll need caffeine. And some time." Abby bit her lip. "And McGee."

"You got him." Gibbs punched numbers on his cell phone. While he waited for an answer, and without looking at Tony, he said, "DiNozzo, you want to--"

"On it, Boss. Black for you and CafPow! for the lady." Tony's forced smile dropped only when the elevator door closed.

~~~~~  
  
McGee took a deep breath as he climbed down the ladder after Kate and the Jimmy Carter's COB. COB, he'd learned, stood for Chief of the Boat. _In through the nose, out through the mouth._ He really hoped he wouldn't have to puke into an evidence bag. As they passed through the control room on the way to crew quarters on the deck below, he almost forgot to be seasick. This sub had everything. Every bell, every whistle, and a few chimes and gongs thrown in for good measure. He nearly lost his footing on the ladder as he craned to see it all.

"Beaumont's rack is right through here." Chief Tyler was short and wide, but he moved with surprising grace down ladders and around bulkheads.

"Isn't it kind of small?" Kate asked as she slipped past him into an alcove. There were eight bunks in an area not much bigger than her dining ell. Each sailor slept in what was basically a niche in the wall with a footlocker at the end of the bunk.

"This isn't a cruise ship, Miss." He stepped into the corridor so McGee could join Kate. "They gave us 3.2 billion dollars, and we spent most all of it on indulgences like sonar and a quiet propulsion system."

"Submariners don't have a lot of down time, Kate," McGee added as he flipped Beaumont's footlocker open and fought off a wave of nausea. "Eighteen-hour days, six on duty and twelve off"--he looked to the COB for confirmation--"and they're expected to study during their off time, right, Chief?"

"Correct, Agent McGee." Tyler turned to look at Kate quizzically. "He always that shade of green?"

"McGee has a little motion sickness problem, Chief. He'll be all right."

"Seasick?" Tyler chuckled, "Son, you don't get seasick on a sub! Once we dive you can't feel any motion to be sick of!"

McGee paused as he powered up Beaumont's laptop. "Hm. I guess that makes sense."

"Lemme show you a little trick. Give me your hand." Tyler took McGee by the wrist and pressed a spot about two inches from the heel of his hand. "This is your Nei Kuan point, McGee. You just press there whenever you feel like you're gonna hurl."

Kate knelt down to sweep her hand under Beaumont's mattress. "Is it working, McGee?"

"Yeah." McGee looked at his wrist in wonder as Tyler released his grip. "It is working. I feel...okay."

"Never seen it fail," Tyler said with a grin. "The wife discovered it while she was carryin' our twins. I don't usually go for that kind of new age horsesh--sorry, Miss--but if it works..." He shrugged.

Kate smiled up at the Chief. "What can you tell us about Seaman Beaumont? What was he like?"

Tyler's grin faded. "Tommy was a great submariner, Miss. Took to it like he had a dolphin for a momma. But he was pretty quiet. A little clumsy. Kinda what they call 'geeky'."

She fished some paperbacks out of one of the mesh pockets that lined the bunk. "Looks like he was a sci-fi buff. What do you think, McGee?"

"Well, the _Stargate SG1_ wallpaper on his laptop kind of gave it away."

"The guys called him 'Spock'," Tyler said. "Look here, Agent McGee, what's all this about? Beaumont fell and got his neck broke. He was always tripping over something. Where's the big mystery?"

McGee paused and looked at Kate. "Chief Tyler, do you know what an RFI chip is?" 

~~~~~  
  
Gibbs stood by the evidence locker, a hand covering one ear and his cellphone pressed to the other, while Kate told him what they'd found on the sub. DiNozzo emerged from the elevator balancing one cardboard tray of coffee cups on another.

Gibbs watched as Tony went first to the four Marines and handed over a tray, saying something that made them laugh. _He could charm the lifejacket off a drowning man._ Next, he earned a grateful smile from Abby when he dropped off her large beverage--though even from this distance, Gibbs could see that Tony's returning smile didn't reach as far as his eyes.

Tony hesitated, then crossed the garage to Gibbs. He held out the tall paper cup with the green logo. Gibbs reached for it without looking Tony in the eye.

He didn't release the cup as Gibbs's hand closed around it. Gibbs looked up and Tony held his gaze for what seemed like days, then swept his thumb slowly over Gibbs's fingers and turned away. _Now what?_

"Yeah, Kate. I'm still here." Gibbs kept his voice even despite the rapid increase in his pulse. "Is McGee sure---never mind. Abby's got him hooked up now." Gibbs took a breath and held it for a moment as he listened. "You tell--you tell Captain Killick that I'd be delighted to read any report he wants to file on you two. Right." He hung up in time to see Tony disappear into the elevator.

Abby had hooked up a second laptop. She wore a headset and had an image of McGee in one corner of the screen. He was typing furiously on his own laptop while Abby subjected him to a steady stream of technobabble.

Gibbs didn't want to interrupt the flow of data, but he didn't want to hang around, either. "How long, Abbs?" he signed.

Abby could sign back and listen to McGee at the same time. "They've got Beaumont's laptop, so, if Em-Eye-Tee"--she spelled out her sign for McGee--"is as good as he says he is, it shouldn't be long. Give me 30." Gibbs gave Abby's arm a quick squeeze, nodded to the Marines and headed for the elevator.

~~~~~  
  
MTAC was dark and quiet. The lone weekend tech had gone to get lunch after exacting DiNozzo's promise not to touch anything in there. Tony slumped in an aisle seat and took a bite out of the chicken sandwich he'd picked up at the coffee shop. He watched random sattelite images pan across the big screen. In his personal history of bad ideas, coming into work today ranked right up there with that mullet he'd gotten in 1985.

So now he was Gibbs's coffee boy. No more, no less. Now he knew. It really was easier this way, he thought as he opened a carton of chocolate milk. No more worries about what Gibbs might want, or do, or say. No more watching him for signs and signals. Definitely easier.

Maybe too easy?

There was the phone call. Unmistakable invitation. Then the no-show. What had he said? Something came up. Work. Obviously. Bionic Beaumont. But Gibbs could have...could have what? Gone into all the details in his phone message? Gibbs hated talking to machines. What was he going to do? Tell the Director that he couldn't take this case because he was picking Tony up for a booty call?

_Idiot._

Gibbs had never said that he wanted to forget last night. He didn't have a chance to say anything. Tony had shut the whole thing down before it started because he was...scared?

_Idiot._

He wasn't just scared, he was terrified. And without realizing it, he'd decided that it would be better to never have Gibbs than to lose him in any one of the dozen stupid ways his other relationships had ended. 

He picked up the rest of the sandwich and finished it in two large bites. _Never make life decisions on an empty stomach, DiNozzo_. Images of indistinct coastlines and and roadways flashed on the screen as he sucked the last of the milk through a straw.

Maybe it wasn't too late. The thought of facing Gibbs now, after acting like he was way off his meds, wasn't tempting. But it beat the alternative. Calling up the nerve he used when he drew down on a suspect or kicked in a door, Tony launched himself out of his seat and up the ramp.

He ran smack into Gibbs coming the other way.

"Tony!" Gibbs automatically reached out to steady Tony as he took half a step back.

 _Kiss him! Do something! Don't fuck up!_ "I'm...glad to see you, Boss."

Gibbs took his hand away from Tony's arm slowly, conscious of the bare handsbreadth between them. "You going somewhere?"

"Just looking for you." Tony tilted his head, drinking in the angles and planes of Gibbs's face.

"Well, you found me." Gibbs's tone was neutral. He was still wary, unsure of where solid ground was anymore.

Tony willed himself to keep going. "About what I said in the elevator."

"Which part?" Gibbs's body seemed to know the answer as he swayed a little closer to Tony.

"The part about forgetting last night." Tony felt an answering tingle from his toes to his scalp. He wanted to touch Gibbs. But not in front of the MTAC security cameras. Instead, he took the coffee cup Gibbs was holding, letting his fingers brush over Gibbs's hand, and drained it. The bitter taste made him grimace. "I didn't mean it. I don't want to forget it."

There was a long silence broken only by the soft crackle of an abandoned headset on the console.

"Good." Gibbs nodded and turned, heading for the door.

Tony followed, but paused at the top of the ramp. "There's just one thing I need to know..."

"What?" Gibbs asked, in a gentler voice than usual.

He held up the coffee cup. "How do you drink this stuff?"

The head-smack was swift, sure, and extremely well-deserved.

~~~~~  
  
"Salt water is an extremely poor conductor for radio signals, Abby." McGee explained. "Microwaves would work, but then the chip would have to be the size of a deck of cards and it would probably burn your arm off in about twenty seconds."

"So he was just experimenting on himself? No evil intent?"

McGee could hear the disappointment in her voice. "Based on his notes and what his thesis advisor told me, it sounds like Beaumont was just an early adopter. Liked the idea of not having to carry ID or bank cards."

"In your opinion, Special Agent McGee," a young man in khakis leaned into the frame with Abby, "would the presence of this chip on the _Jimmy Carter_ have any national security implications?"

"Who's this?"

"Sorry, sir. I'm First Lieutenant--"

"This," Abby broke in, "is my friend Archie from the Pentagon." She smiled at the Marine.

"No, First Lieutenant," McGee tugged on the knot of his tie. "As you can see from my decryption of the data on the chip, Beaumont was carrying around his personal information--the code to get into his lab at CalSci, Medic-Alert information about his penicillin allergy--totally innocuous."

"Excuse me, Doctor Sciuto." The Marine's figure left the screen. "I need to report to my superiors."

McGee winced a little at the smile on Abby's face. "Archie?" he asked.

"Archie." Abby waggled her eyebrows and turned as Gibbs and DiNozzo entered her lab.

DiNozzo noted with a smile that she'd managed to get the RFID reader up to her lab after all--without a contingent of Marines surrounding it. There was just that one, using the phone on Abby's desk. "What's the good word, Abby?"

"That sounded like Tony." Kate could be seen in the frame with McGee. "What's Tony doing there?"

"He says it's a long story, Kate." Abby glanced up at DiNozzo with a knowing smile. "And he looks pretty worn out--maybe those beach bunnies were too much for him!"

"Oh, really?" Kate grinned. "Is that true, Tony?"

"Could we leave DiNozzo's sex life alone and get back to the case?" Gibbs tried to keep the smile away but it wouldn't leave entirely. DiNozzo, he noticed, was keeping his eyes nailed to the floor and the rest of him out of arm's reach. Probably a good idea.

"There's really no cause for concern, Boss." McGee explained about the chip with interjections from Abby and amplifications from Lieutenant Kennedy.

"So the guy just did this all on his own? How'd he get the chip in his arm?" Gibbs asked.

"The FDA approved these chips for human implantation last year," Kate said, consulting her notes. "According to Dr. Larry Fleinhardt, his thesis advisor, Beaumont had been doing co-op work with one of the major corporations behind the research. He volunteered and they--"

"That would be so cool!" Abby interrupted. "I want one!"

McGee was the first to find his voice. "Why?"

"Think about it! No more wallets or purses to drag around"--she tugged at the ID badge clipped to her lab coat and tossed it across the room--"no more cards! No more biometric scans! Everything anyone needs to know about you on a tiny orange chip!" She threw her arms in the air. "Freedom!"

"That's insane!" McGee's voice cracked. "Everything you buy, all your movements--everything can be tracked!"

"I'm not ashamed of anything I buy, McGee," Abby said tauntingly. "Are you?"

"That's not the point. It's about privacy--"

"Privacy is over, McGee. Live in the now! Look! This, right here"--Abby pointed to a line of code on the screen--"I think it unlocks a door. Probably his lab."

"See, that's what I'm talking about. What if the power went out? He'd be locked out!"

"Oh, like they wouldn't have a back-up generator at CalSci."

Gibbs pulled the chip off the scanner bed and pocketed it.

"Gibbs!" Abby wailed.

"If this chip didn't have anything to do with Beaumont's death, we're done here, Abby." He turned back at the door. "Get out of here. All of you. Kate, McGee, come on home. I'm not signing off on any more overtime because of this." He patted his pocket and left.

"Well." Tony glanced around. "I guess that's that."

"Whoa, whoa, Tony." Kate nudged McGee out of the camera frame. "I still want to know what happened to your fratboy vacation."

"Sorry, Kate. I'll have to tell you about that when I'm back on the clock." He gave Abby's pigtail a tug and headed for the door. "Ciao, bella!"

He found Gibbs at his desk, talking to Ducky. Tony caught Gibbs's eye for a second, then leaned against his own desk to wait.

Before long, Mallard turned to see what had Gibbs so distracted. His eyes narrowed when he saw DiNozzo. "Back from holiday so soon, Agent DiNozzo?"

"Yes, Doctor Mallard." Tony smiled, refusing to elaborate.

With a long look at Gibbs and a hasty nod to Tony, Ducky hurried off.

"So." Gibbs folded his arms and looked Tony in the eye. "You want to get something to eat?"

"Actually, I'm not that hungry right now." Tony bit his lip, "I could go for a beer, though, since this was supposed to be my vacation."

"I have beer." Gibbs picked up his jacket and switched off the lamp over his desk. "I have a lot of beer."

Tony fell in behind him as he headed to the elevator. "Did I ever tell you that I was the Mid-West Beer Bong _Champion_ of 1988?"

~~~~

Gibbs closed the front door and looked at Tony. Except for the exhausted lines around his eyes, he looked like he could have stepped from the pages of one of those magazines.

Gibbs had seen one in the dentist's office. Suave young man in a suit on the cover, ads for overpriced aftershave inside. He'd wondered who, besides his dentist, bought these things. But looking at Tony now, he could understand why you might want to have this picture where you could see it whenever you wanted.

Opening the closet, Gibbs kicked his shoes off and hung up his jacket. DiNozzo stood in the middle of the hallway, hands in his pockets, eyes on the floor. He was quiet and, Gibbs could see from his body language, extremely tense. This was new. He'd wondered which version of DiNozzo he'd get to see tonight.

Tony's earlier bravado had disappeared, replaced by a kind of cautious watchfulness, as though he were measuring the distance between himself and...a target, Gibbs realized. He's waiting to see what I'm going to do before he jumps. This DiNozzo was one he could work with.

"DiNozzo!" You didn't have to be loud to use the command voice, Gibbs reflected.

"Yeah, Boss!" Tony replied automatically, lifting his head to look at Gibbs.

"We got all this way," Gibbs said more gently, "and you're gonna just stand out here in the hall?"

"Of course not," Tony scoffed, but stayed where he was.

"Come on. I'll get you that beer." He brushed by DiNozzo on his way to the kitchen, his manner carefully casual. "Uh...make yourself comfortable. There should be an empty hanger in the closet," he added helpfully.

When Gibbs came back with the beer, he found Tony, minus his jacket, tie, and shoes--That's a good sign--examining the bookshelves in the living room as if they held the meaning of life. Quietly, he put the bottles on the coffee table and stepped up behind Tony. Not touching him yet, just inhaling him, feeling the heat radiating from his body. He moved a little closer and felt a snap of relief when Tony leaned back against him.

"Hi," Gibbs whispered, slipping his arms around Tony.

Tony turned his head, letting Gibbs's lips trace his cheek. He swallowed hard. "Gibbs?"

"Yeah."

"I might screw this up."

"You can't," Gibbs murmured against Tony's ear, the elevator incident making perfect sense to him now. "You cannot screw this up. And I don't mean 'you can't afford to make a mistake.' I mean I'm not letting you go."

"But--" Tony stiffened a little.

"No buts." Gibbs turned DiNozzo to face him and brushed his lips with his own, feeling them part and soften. "You want me, you're stuck with me."

"That sounds like a plan." Tony kissed Gibbs, a little tentatively at first, then more firmly. He slid a hand around the back of Gibbs's neck, pulling him closer and taking possession of his mouth with hot hard kisses, his tongue tangling with Gibbs's. He still wasn't sure Gibbs knew what they might be getting into. It was probably a huge mistake. But, Tony decided, he was going to enjoy Gibbs. For tonight, anyway.

Gibbs pressed against Tony, closer, harder. Tony stumbled back, a little off balance, and Gibbs pushed his advantage. With two steps forward, he had Tony pinned against the wall near the bookcase, chest-to-chest, his hands roaming over Tony's body. He pulled the shirt out of Tony's waistband, aching to feel his skin under his hands.

Tony melted against Gibbs and caressed the back of his neck, loving the feel of freshly-buzzed hair against his hand. He slid his other hand over Gibbs's back possessively, needing to learn the feel of every ridge and curve.

Gibbs pulled his lips away from Tony's. He wanted to know what Tony tasted like, all of him--but what he could reach would do for a start. He brushed his lips along Tony's jaw and down his neck, pushing the open collar of his shirt aside, feeling the muscles tense as he moved lower, until he reached the delectable angle between Tony's neck and shoulder. He inhaled the vaguely spicy scent of Tony's skin and felt him shiver as he pressed a kiss to the spot.

"Oh God, Gibbs...that's..." Tony arched his neck, offering more of his throat to Gibbs. Pleasure lanced through him as Gibbs hit that spot again and again, nipping lightly with his teeth, pinning Tony more firmly against the wall. Tony moved his hands down to rest on the curve of Gibbs's ass, moving in slow circles, feeling Gibbs grow harder against him.

Gibbs kissed his way up, unable to stay away from Tony's mouth for long. Why the hell had it taken them two years? Two years of feinting, never getting to the point, two years they would never get back...two years when they could have been doing this every single night. Gibbs pressed even closer to Tony.

"Wait." Tony panted. "Wait a minute."

Gibbs opened his eyes--he hadn't realized they'd been closed--and pulled back so he could see Tony's face.

"What's wrong?"

Tony's lips quirked into a mischievous smile. With a swift motion he turned and pinned Gibbs to the wall, grinding into him and fastening his mouth on Gibbs's neck. Grasping Gibbs's wrists, he drew them up over his head and held them there. Gibbs resisted at first, then relaxed and let it wash over him--the feel of Tony's teeth grazing his throat, Tony's cock hard up against him.

The next time Tony stopped to breathe, Gibbs said, "So you really want that beer, DiNozzo? Or do you want to go upstairs?"

"Are those my options, Boss?" DiNozzo bent his head to place a line of kisses along the base of Gibbs's throat. "Because I think we're doing fine right here."

"You're necking with an old guy, Tony. Been thinking about bed--with or without you in it--since about noon today."

"Well, considering that I haven't slept in"--Tony laced his fingers through Gibbs's and pulled his wrist up to where he could see Gibbs's watch--"almost 36 hours," Tony eyed Gibbs, blinking a little sleepily, "I'm actually liking the bed idea."

"Good answer," Gibbs said. "Go on up, Tony. I'll get the lights."

Tony started up the stairs, but changed his mind and waited for Gibbs halfway up. "I missed you."

Gibbs stepped up and wrapped his arms around Tony's waist. "Yeah. Me too." He dropped a quick kiss on his lips. "But I'd rather do this upstairs."

Tony smiled against Gibbs's mouth. "I knew you were dying to get me in bed."

"Yeah, well, I'd rather not die falling down the stairs before we get there," Gibbs said, pulling back a little. He smacked Tony on the ass and headed up.

Tony watched for a moment, then followed Gibbs, taking the stairs two at a time. He blew past Gibbs and into the bedroom. Throwing himself down on the bed and stretching out on his back, legs crossed at the ankles, hands behind his head, he said, "You know, Gibbs, if you'd just once smacked me on the ass like that instead of on the back of the head, I'd have been here years ago."

"Good to know," Gibbs said, pulling his t-shirt off over his head. "You going to just lie there?"

Tony sat up on the edge of the bed. "C'mere."

With one step, Gibbs was in front of him. He shivered as Tony's hands slid under his t-shirt. He pulled it off hastily as Tony pulled him closer and pressed his face against Gibbs's skin. The shirt landed somewhere near the dresser. Neatness was not a priority right now.

"That was a USMC t-shirt. Did we just defile it?" Tony murmured as he slid his hands around and over Gibbs's ass and the back of his thighs.

"It's not part of the uniform, DiNozzo," Gibbs said, resting a hand on Tony's shoulder and planting his feet a little wider apart--for balance, he told himself, until Tony's fingers traced a line down the crack of his ass and...oh yeah, that was good.

Tony noted Gibbs's reaction and filed it away for future use. He moved his hands down Gibbs's legs and then back up, letting his fingers drag lazily up and down that seam again. "I guess you're not so sleepy anymore." He moved his other hand slowly over the bulge in Gibbs's pants. "Is that for me?"

"You see anyone else here?" Gibbs said. It felt odd not to accompany that with his usual smack to the back of Tony's head, but he thought he could adjust as long as DiNozzo kept doing...that. His voice went a little unsteady. "Fuck, Tony"--he was edging toward the command voice again--"let me get out of these pants."

"Soon." Tony looked up at Gibbs. It was kind of a weird kick to see Gibbs this way, head thrown back and eyes closed, aching to have Tony's hands on him.

Gibbs felt, rather than saw, Tony open his belt and slide down his zipper. He opened his eyes just as Tony slipped his hands inside. He pushed up against Tony insistently.

"Man. And you tell me I'm impatient," Tony whispered.

"Two years is a long time, DiNozzo."

Tony moved his lips over Gibbs's stomach, slipping his tongue inside the waistband of his boxers. His skin was salty, like the sea. Tony had a hazy flashback to a sunny day in Baltimore, eating lunch on the roof of the stationhouse with an ocean breeze rolling in off the Patapsco. He pushed the boxers down and rubbed his cheek along the length of Gibbs's straining cock. He really hoped this wasn't a dream. Tired as he was, he couldn't be sure. But the feel of Gibbs's fingers threading through his hair was like nothing he'd ever imagined.

Tony's hair ran through Gibbs's fingers like water. He steadied himself with his other hand on Tony's shoulder, feeling his warmth through the soft cotton shirt. It had been awhile since he'd done this, but it didn't seem like much had changed. Except...it was DiNozzo there, he thought. Finally. With a sigh of contentment, he gave a little push against Tony's cheek.

Tony took the hint. There was still a small voice in the back of his head telling him to run before he did something stupid. He ignored it; that voice had always been bad news. He might be lousy at relationships, but this was something he was good at. Football hadn't been his only extra-curricular in college. Slowly, with infinite care, he swirled his tongue over the head of Gibbs's cock, curling his fingers around the shaft, his other hand firm on Gibbs's hip.

The first touch of Tony's tongue left him a little unsteady; he gripped Tony's shoulder tighter. He wanted this never to stop. He wanted it to stop now so he could get Tony on the bed and fuck him senseless. Words came from him one at a time, as though drawn out by the slow slide of Tony's hand. "Yeah, Tony. More."

"On it, Boss." Tony held Gibbs's gaze for a moment, then licked his lips and took Gibbs in his mouth, sucking while he dragged his tongue against the underside. Tightening his lips, he slid up and down, slowly at first, then faster when he felt the pressure of Gibbs's hand on his head and heard the soft, hungry sounds low in Gibbs's throat.

Fuck. It wasn't going to take Gibbs long at this rate. The feeling of Tony's mouth on his cock was unbelievably good. But to look down and see him there...that was a hundred times better. He tightened his hand on Tony's head and thrust into his mouth, gently at first, then harder, trying to keep himself from losing control completely. He was long past words now, all sound and motion, as Tony responded by pulling him closer, swallowing him down.

Tony moved his hands around to cup Gibbs's ass, pushing his pants and boxers all the way down. He felt Gibbs's hand digging harder into his shoulder. He pulled away for a half second to wet his fingers, then let Gibbs fuck his mouth while he gently worked two fingers inside. Mine, he thought. All mine...for now.

"God...Tony!" That was it. Right there. Gibbs pushed back again, fucking himself on Tony's hand, then forward into Tony's mouth, harder and harder with each thrust, hearing himself muttering endearments he wouldn't remember five minutes from now, wanting so badly just to let go for Tony. "So close, Tony, so close, fuck..." He burst into Tony's mouth.

Tony's hips thrust up involuntarily as he felt Gibbs spasm. He held him through the aftershocks, and slowly disengaged.

Gibbs couldn't remember ever needing someone to hold him up after he'd been on the receiving end of a blow job; on the other hand, this hadn't just been about getting his dick sucked. He'd let everything go, all the tension that had built up waiting for something to happen, and if his knees buckled a little, well, that's what happened. He drew a hand up, caressing Tony's cheek with his thumb. "That wasn't bad, DiNozzo." Then, giving Tony a gentle shove backwards on the bed, "Why are you still dressed?"

Tony pushed himself back until he was leaning against the headboard. He watched as Gibbs kicked his way out of the pants pooled around his ankles, then slid next to Tony on the bed. "You're still wearing socks, Gibbs," Tony pointed out.

"You're still wearing a shirt." Gibbs smoothed his hand over Tony's shirt, then reached for the first button. "And pants."

Tony settled back in the pillows, trailing his fingers up and down the center of Gibbs's back, while Gibbs eased him out of his shirt and pushed his undershirt up to start a trail of tiny fires under Tony's skin with each kiss over his chest and stomach.

Gibbs dragged his knuckles over Tony's cock, still trapped in the pinstripe pants, and then attacked his belt buckle. DiNozzo felt free and indolent. He didn't care what might happen tomorrow or the next day. This was now. Gibbs was here, undressing him with the same fierce concentration he turned on anything that interested him.

No old men in this room, Gibbs thought a little smugly. He could feel his cock twitching to life again as he manhandled Tony's pants down, revealing--"Is that the underwear you keep in the filing cabinet, DiNozzo?"

"Didn't know you were keeping tabs on that, Boss."

Gibbs snorted and bent down to finish the job, prodding Tony's ass till he lifted up and pulling off pants and briefs in one smooth motion.

"That's more like it," he said, stretching himself out carefully over Tony. He kissed him once, firmly, then began a leisurely investigation of what made Tony squirm and wriggle and suck in his breath.

Tony lost any semblance of control under the assault of Gibbs's lips and hands--starting with that spot on Tony's neck that sent some kind of electric jolt from there to his balls. The lazy feeling evaporated as he arched up, kneading the muscles in Gibbs's back, rubbing his cock almost painfully against Gibbs's stomach.

He pulled Gibbs down, needing to taste him again, feeling the pulse in Gibbs's neck against his lips. He moved to capture Gibbs's earlobe with his teeth and lips, sucking gently. Gibbs bucked hard against him, a shudder running through his body. "Tony! What..."

"You like that?" he whispered, his tongue tracing the edge of Gibbs's ear before suckling at the earlobe again. He got a low groan for an answer. "Nobody ever nibbled your ear before, Gibbs?" Tony raised his knees, squeezing Gibbs's hips between his thighs, feeling Gibbs's half-hard cock rubbing against his, between their sweat-slicked bodies.

"Not like that," Gibbs murmured. Tony's tongue on his ear and Tony's cock sliding against his felt so good. Now is not the time to get distracted. "Show me later," he added, and tried to wriggle free from the pressure of Tony's thighs so he could slide down and take him in his mouth.

"Showing you now," Tony retorted, tightening his grip, holding Gibbs's head where he wanted it.

Shock after shock of arousal coursed through Gibbs's body. He felt himself getting fully hard again and thrust against Tony over and over, hoping that it felt as good to him as it did to Gibbs.

He slipped his hands under Tony's ass, lifting him up just a little, until he found the perfect angle. Tony pushed down hard against him, throwing his head back against the pillows, giving Gibbs a chance to drop more fiery kisses on Tony's throat.

"Oh yeah...yeah, that's good," Tony muttered. The way Gibbs was holding his ass, sliding against him with just enough friction, drove him closer and closer to the edge. If he was this good now, Tony thought hazily, what would it be like when Gibbs was fucking him?

Gibbs pressed his face into Tony's shoulder, murmuring against his skin, "So hot, you feel so good, Tony," as he thrust harder and harder into the slick heat. He couldn't hold on much longer. "Come for me, I want to feel you, now, Tony..."

The raw edge in Gibbs's voice when he said his name was all it took. Tony grew rigid, his fingers digging holes in Gibbs's back as he erupted between them. He held tight to Gibbs as his body rocked with pleasure, feeling like he'd literally fall apart if he didn't hang on to something. Gibbs kept pounding at him, burying his face in Tony's neck, still murmuring indistinctly, until he came in a hot, sweet rush.

A slow, dreamy smile spread over Tony's face as Gibbs sprawled bonelessly on top of him. He didn't find it suffocating or constricting. He felt grounded, full...safe.

Gibbs raised his head and looked at Tony. He was beautiful. That was the only word that fit. "Tony, I..." The rest of the words wouldn't come. Not yet. Not now. He eased himself up, still not breaking contact between them. Leaning forward, he brushed Tony's lips with his own.

Tony opened his eyes and the smile widened. "Yeah, Gibbs. Me too."

~~~~

Tony's eyes snapped open. It was dark, but streetlamps painted stripes of indigo and grey through the wooden blinds. His perfect vision couldn't tell him where he was, but his sense of smell more than made up for it. Gibbs. The clean laundry, steam iron, starchy, with a ground note of coffee scent that followed Gibbs was everywhere. Sheets, pillowcases, his own skin. And sex. He inhaled deeply. There had been hot, steamy sex in this room. _Gibbs. Sex._ He'd had sex with Gibbs! In Gibbs's bed! And, just to be absolutely clear, that was Gibbs's arm draped over his hip...which meant that the dick pressed up against his ass...

Definitely not a dream. A dream would have included a more comfortable mattress.

So now what?

The alarm clock read 4:02. He should go. He couldn't believe he'd fallen all the way asleep. It had been relatively early in the evening when the whole thing had started, but they were both sleep-deprived. It couldn't have been much later than eleven when they crashed. But Tony never fell asleep after sex. Not even in his own bed. There'd be a brief, post-coital doze and he was out the door--or showing someone to the door.

He didn't like sharing a bed. Especially one with a piece of shit Sears-O-Pedic mattress that was going to leave him half-crippled. No wonder Gibbs liked to sleep in the boat.

He chalked it up to the aforementioned sleep-deprivation and glanced around for his clothes.

A lot to think about. Gibbs seemed pretty sure about what he wanted. And, Tony was sure, nothing that happened last night would change that. A good time was had by all. _A fucking amazing time_ , his dick chimed in. But he was less sure about the details. He wasn't sure what Gibbs's idea of "you're stuck with me" really meant.

He figured he'd go home, maybe call and see if Gibbs wanted to get dinner tonight. Or whatever. He didn't want to push it. It was enough to have come this far and he didn't want to get greedy. They would...eat? Watch a movie? Definitely have more sex. And try to keep their hands off each other at work. _Isn't that like dating?_ Not going there.

Okay, almost 4:15. Move. _Get up, Tony._ Despite the mattress, he really didn't want to leave. It felt...right to have Gibbs wrapped around him like this. But it would be awkward later. Maybe a little embarassing. Better to slip out now. Maybe leave a note downstairs.

He eased out from between the sheets. Gibbs shifted a little, but the rhythm of his soft, purring snore hadn't broken. Tony found his shirt draped over a chair and threw it on as he padded to the bathroom. There was a new toothbrush on the vanity. It hadn't been there last night. How did he _do_ that?

After taking a very quiet piss, he slipped back in the room to find his pants. There. By the bed. He bent to pick them up, hoping the beltbuckle and keys wouldn't rattle too much. He peeked at Gibbs. No movement. _Heavier sleeper than I--_

"Where're you going?" Gibbs's eyes didn't open and though his voice was low, he sounded entirely awake and alert.

"Didn't mean to wake you." Tony stepped into his pants. "I'm gonna take off. I'll call you. Go back to sleep." He'd memorized this script.

Now Gibbs's eyes opened and he propped himself up on one elbow while Tony looked for his socks. "You're on vacation. You need to be somewhere today?"

"Well, not really. I just figured I'd get out of your way." He found his socks under the bed. "Maybe we can do dinner tonight."

"You're not in my way, Tony."

"But you need to go to work in a few hours..." He sat down on the bed to pull his socks on.

"I want you to stay."

"...and if I leave when you do I'll hit all that traffic."

Gibbs shifted and sat up, wrapping his arms around Tony from behind, "I meant," he dropped a kiss on Tony's shoulder, "that I want you to stay here and be here when I get home." He spoke very clearly and articulated every sound, like you do when talking to the hard of hearing.

"Oh."

"Unless," Gibbs pulled his shirt collar away to kiss the now-famous spot on Tony's neck, "...if you don't want to..."

"I want to." Tony jumped in quickly, surprising himself. "I do want to stay. If that's okay with..."

"What did I just say, DiNozzo?"

"Okay, then."

"Okay. Now get out of those clothes and get your ass back in bed." Gibbs watched as he dropped his pants, threw his shirt back on the chair, and kicked his socks back under the bed. As Tony settled next to him, Gibbs draped an arm over Tony's hip, pulling him closer.

Now wide awake, Tony put his hand on top of Gibbs's, moving it in circles over his hip and down his leg. Gibbs took up the rhythm, sliding his hand over Tony's stomach and down to grasp his cock. Tony rubbed back against him in a horizontal lap dance. His breath came faster as he pressed harder against Gibbs.

A brief flash of pain as something poked against Tony's ribs--"Gibbs," he gasped. The hand on his cock slowed. "Do the words 'pillow-top' mean anything to you?"

~~~~~~~

The End


End file.
